


Over Again

by louis_ass



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cutting, Depression, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Okay this is awful, Self-Hatred, Smut, Suicide, Triggers, Unrequited Love, and the ending is rushed af, but it's been sitting in my notes on my phone for too long, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louis_ass/pseuds/louis_ass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' too broken to be fixed, but Harry can't help but keep on loving him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I wrote this on my phone so it sucks. The ending was rushed but it's been sitting in my notes annoying the hell out of me. Like, I don't know why I bother writing because awful awful awful, but I'd really love some feedback. 
> 
> And please don't read if you get triggered easily. I don't think I write well enough for that, but playing it safe.

Over Again:  
Louis takes in a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut, knuckles going white from the force of his grip on the boat's railing. He slowly exhales, blue eyes opening and taking in the sea before him.

It's sort of breathtaking in a scary, intimidating way. The ocean is so vast and big-it seems to go on forever and ever, never ending and overpowering. It can be so many different things all at once because of this. Right now, this part of the ocean is freezing yet calm, its waters murky and dark so Louis can't see the bottom of the ocean floor if he were to look down. However, somewhere else in the world, the water is warm and you can see the fish as they swim. Yet in another part, there might be a storm going on, and the waves wild and huge, sinking any ships that dare pass.

The last thought makes Louis shiver, and he crosses his tan arms across his chest, letting go of the railing to do so, eyes still trained forward, a worrying expression on his face. He chews at his bottom lip, thinking.

These days, most of his thoughts lead back to the way that Louis always seems to be fucking things up. He's never good enough, and he's getting tired of playing this role. When Louis expressed his love for acting, this wasn't the type of drama the blue-eyed boy had in mind.

Yet, here Louis was, stuck in this sort of nightmare where there's pressure to not be himself. It's made him start to believe that maybe there's more of a reason than just to help sell records. He knows he's not the most popular member of the band; it's beyond obvious that everyone's in love with Harry. 

And how could they not be? Harry is practically perfect. Gorgeous, sweet, kind. He's an angel on earth. He makes Louis feel special, if only for a few breathless moments. The countless girls who are head over heels stand no chance with the younger boy seeing as he's as straight as his curly hair, yet Louis doesn't feel he has a chance-no matter Harry's endless protests.

Louis is bad. It's why management tries so hard to make him into something he's not. He's this awful person, hiding behind smiles and laughter, trying not to show how broken he is. It's why he can't have Harry. He knows this boy deserves so much more, someone so much better than Louis. Someone to do him justice, someone as pretty as Harry, and someone with a soul just as beautiful. Someone who definitely isn't Louis.

Despite these things, Harry always goes back to Louis, insisting he's the one, no, the only one for him. He steals feather light kisses, never on his lips but in his soft hair and on the smooth skin of the shorter boy's neck, wrapping the small boy in his arms as he does so. At night, he claims to be having nightmares just so he can fold himself around Louis, some sort of protective cocoon, hot breath making the small hairs on the back of Louis' neck rise. When he doesn't think Louis is looking, he takes in the sight of Louis, eyes going up and down, taking in every ounce of the boy and loving him with all of his heart.

Louis doesn't see the love, though, and these are the only things he gives Harry, wanting to keep a part of him away from the boy. It's his only defense now. He has to do it-to protect not only himself but Harry, too. He knows that if he gives Harry what he wants, Harry won't like what he's been given. He has such high expectations of Louis, and Louis know he'll be left alone, stripped and bare of his only self-defense. 

Louis' thoughts are broken as strong arms wrap around his middle, and someone pulls him back so his body is flush against theirs. Louis immediately knows it's Harry because it's always Harry, and warm, plump lips press down onto the top of his head before curls tickle his face as Harry nuzzles his neck. Louis can feel his heart beating at a pace faster than a race horse at the Kentucky Derby.

"What are you doing?" Louis' voice is quiet, barely audible. These days, though, it's more than enough. He closes his eyes, sucking in a breath as Harry presses a kiss against his skin.

"Wondering what you're thinking," Harry murmurs, breath hot as he tilts his head up just slightly so his lips are close to Louis' ear. "You're so beautiful when you concentrate this hard, boobear."

Louis doesn't comment on Harry's words, choosing to take in a deep, shuddery breath. "People are watching, Haz," he reminds, going to step away. He can't do this. Louis can never do this. He isn't strong enough. He knows there'll be hurt in Harry's eyes and it'll break his heart, but it's better than knowing how disappointed Harry'll be when he realized Louis isn't anything like he depicts him to be.

Large hands wrap around Louis' left wrist, pulling him backwards so the tall boy and he are chest to chest. Louis immediately knows Harry's going to say those three words he dreads hearing soon, and his stomach drops, eyes dropping to where his small feet are barley touching Harry's large ones.

Harry uses his free hand to lift Louis' chin up, green eyes meeting blue ones as he softly strokes Louis' cheek. He's searching for something specific in those beautiful blue eyes, and Louis shuts his eyes, letting himself lean into the touch despite it all.

"I don't care who watches," Harry finally says, thumb catching a stray eyelash. As an after thought, he quickly adds, "Let them see how in love I am with you."

Louis let's out a small, bitter laugh, eyes opening as he steps away from Harry. "Maybe you don't, but there's other people involved in this, and you're delusional if you still think you're in love with me," he says, voice failing at being steady, a crack giving the hurt Louis' feeling away.

Harry frowns because Louis always does this, and it always kills him. He doesn't know why the pain never seems any more bearable with each rejection, but nobody ever said life was a just thing. 

Tucked away in a place where only Harry can see, thoughts swim around the curly-haired boy's mind, unknown to Louis. They're all scattered about, flickering here and there, screaming in attempts to capture all of Harry's attention. It's no secret the boy gets distracted too easily or lost in his thoughts too quickly. Those faults can all be blamed upon these relentless, biting thoughts, but Harry doesn't mind one little bit.

Maybe it's because a majority of the boy's thoughts settle on to the gorgeous, tan boy with a caramel fringe and eyes a prettier blue than the sky and ocean around them combined.

Mostly, Harry's thoughts on Louis obsess over how perfect the boy is. 

How Harry's heart skips a beat when he sees the beautiful boy do something as simple as smile. 

How Harry feels jolts of heat spread through his body, warming his heart, and numbing his toes when the two touch. 

How Harry could probably get drunk simply off of hearing the sound of Louis' sweet, semi-high voice.

Harry notices and loves these little things about Louis that nobody else can notice without falling head over heels like Harry has. 

The way that Louis let's out small giggles when he fucking knows he shouldn't be laughing at something, throwing his hands to cover them up while his eyes gleam and dance from the joy, whole body shaking with the force of it. 

The way that when Louis isn't trying to hide his laughter is booms and echoes, insisting others join in on his happiness, always tugging at the very least a giggle from Harry's mouth. 

The way Louis' eyes crinkle when he talks, laugh lines showing the boy has been happy at one point and can be again-no matter how hard he tries to convince Harry that that will never happen.

The way that if the boys are watching a sad movie or, in cases that should be a bit more rare than they really are, chick flicks, Louis will tear up slightly and cuddle closer to Harry, attempting to hide his not-so-dry eyes as he nuzzles into the taller boy's chest.

The way that Louis tries to act so big when he's tiny enough for Harry to tuck him into his chest and curl up on him, shielding him from any dangers of the world as they try to steal a peaceful sleep from the night.

Harry loves Louis, but Louis doesn't believe him and couldn't love him back if he did. He says he's broken, no good for Harry. What the boy doesn't realize is how bright he shines in Harry's world, practically replacing the sun that shines dull in comparison, and how his words and other words he's said at one point or another confuse the fuck out of Harry.

Louis claims he's anything but perfect, a mess of shattered glass lying dangerous in lighting too dim to make out where the small shards lie in wait. Harry's walking barefoot while blind; he's going to and up with slices of crimson red bleeding across his porcelain skin, tiny pieces of glass lodging themselves into its surface, hard to take out and painful as hell.

Harry doesn't see this, though. He only sees Louis as perfect. He doesn't care if he can never get those pieces of glass out; he'd rather have Louis permanently etched into his skin anyways, and if that's as close as he can get to that, Harry'll take it.

Really, Harry will take anything Louis is willing to give away to him.

Maybe that's a bit sad, a bit desperate, but Harry doesn't care. He's a hopeless romantic at heart and willing to make a fool out of himself to prove his love to the boy with sapphire jewels for eyes.

"Louis..." Harry starts, voice low and deep, and Louis doesn't understand how something can sound so rough and gravely yet so much like a liquid and velvet mixture. It makes his heart hurt because he knows where this is going. He thinks he'd need ten extra hands to put a dent on the number of countless times they've had conversations like this.

"Harry," Louis begins to beg, his eyes big and blue, a silent plea for this subject to be dropped. "I really don't want to discuss this right now..."

Harry sighs, running a hand through his mess of curls, green eyes filled with annoyance. It's like no matter how hard he tries, he can never get Louis to talk to him in a proper way like he used to back before everything got so fucked up. It seemed like it was hundreds of years ago that they were acting like best friends and telling each other everything instead of a mere few years ago. Harry can't help but blame himself for this. Maybe if he hasn't let himself get drunk and kiss Louis that one night, let them make what Harry considers to be love, let those three words slip past his lips after so holding them in for so fucking long, things would still be normal, and Harry wouldn't be trying so hard to convince Louis he really does loves him. Somehow, he can't bring himself to regret it because the small moments he steals where Louis loves him back are so, so fucking worth it.

So, instead of arguing like he wants to, Harry lifts a hand to gently caress Louis' cheek, and he feels Louis lean in, watches as he closes his eyes, allowing them to steal this small moment where the world around them is faded and it's just the two of them in this bright mess of colors. 

It's broken too quickly when the sound of the boys gets louder, and Louis' eyes quickly open, a flash of ice cold blue meeting hurt green ones as he takes a step back. Harry let's his hand drop lamely to his side, a silent admittance of defeat.

"Okay," Harry mutters, voice barely audible as a head of blonde comes running at them and tackles the tall boy to the ground, laughing and going off about something that they'd miss in his barely understandable Irish accent.

Louis watched, forcing a small smile to hide the hurt because the boys never bothered rough housing with him like they did each other. Louis guessed it was because of how cut off and reserved he had become and the fact he snapped when someone other than Harry so much as touched him. 

Soon, Zayn and Liam join in the dog pile on top of Harry, and they're all laughing, and Harry finds himself laughing, too, momentarily forgetting the painful sting of yet another of Louis' rejections. At least, he does, until he looks up, eyes automatically searching for the small, tan boy, a need to make sure he was okay capturing his full attention.

Except Louis isn't anywhere to be seen.

~~~

It's a few weeks later when Louis wakes up from this awful nightmare, gasping for breath and a cold sweat making him shiver, to find warm arms around him. He turns his head slightly, trying to catch his breath only to have it taken away when he sees how beautiful Harry looks when he sleeps, resembling the young sixteen year old Louis remembers first meeting. Only that Harry was smaller than Louis, his hair even curlier, and his body not so toned and so tan. It sort of makes his heart clench in a way that makes him want to be sick.

Louis turns his head away, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to collect his thoughts.

This isn't the first time Louis' had a nightmare this week, but that doesn't make it any less unbearable. 

In the latest dream, Louis had been standing on stage, and it was in the middle of 'Moments'. He knew his solo was coming up, so he straightened himself up, getting himself mentally prepared.

Niall finished his solo, and all eyes were trained on Louis. Opening his mouth, Louis began to sing, but his voice didn't sound quite right. It was scratchy and kept cracking, and half way through he just couldn't make a noise at all. Silence fell, and Louis could feel his cheeks flush. He wanted to curl up and disappear because once again, he had fucked up, and his thoughts went to all the hateful tweets about him not being able to sing and not being good enough to be in the band. He hated how true they were.

Suddenly, the crowd erupted into laughter, and all the boys but Harry joined in, pointing at him and snickering, making rude comments into their microphones.

Louis felt tears swell up in his blue eyes, and he turned to Harry, desperation filling his voice as he called out his name. 

Only it looked as if hate and spitefulness filled the jade colored eyes now, and Harry shook his head, curls bouncing back and forth.

And when their eyes met, the cruel sound of Harry's laughter filled Louis' ears, and, eyes still locked with Louis', Harry cooly said, "I can't believe I ever thought I could love someone as worthless and pathetic as you."

Louis closed his eyes, and the tears became real when he awoke. Because it was all true. In reality, his dream was very much a real kind of thing. Just not nearly as dramatic.

Louis didn't know how long he had been crying, but the bed shifts and then there's a slight weight on him, and he feels warm lips press against his for a few seconds, a large thumb wiping his tears away.

Slowly, Louis open his eyes, blinking up at Harry. The younger boy looks like an angel when he's lit up by the moonlight, a white halo shining around a head of curls.

Louis takes in a gasp of air because Harry's just so god damn beautiful-even with concern filling his gaze. 

"Lou-did you have another nightmare?" Harry questions, uneasiness and concern practically overflowing from his deep voice. 

Harry counts himself lucky that he knows about Louis' nightmares. 

There had been a period of time where Louis wouldn't let anyone sleep with him, and Harry couldn't deny that it had hurt him. He was so used to the feeling of Louis' body pressed against him. He found himself not able to sleep without the small boy in his arms.

Harry had gotten particularly fed up with Louis not being in the same bed, so he had snuck into his bed one night, wrapping his arms around Louis' small waist, securing the boy against him. That was the night that he discovered Louis had been having bad dreams, waking up to a sobbing Doncaster boy clutching at him, breath erratic and eyes wide with fear.

Harry had refused to let Louis sleep alone again after the discovery. 

Now, Louis looks up as Harry straddles him, and he hates that he's the one worrying this gorgeous boy. He wants so desperately to wipe the worry and pity that showed in his eyes.

Taking in a breath, Louis tangles his hand in Harry's curls, pulling the boy closer and smashing their lips together in a desperate, frenzied kiss.

Harry lets out a small noise of surprise, the logic in his head screaming to pull away and make Louis tell him what was wrong, but these moments are so, so rare. He can't help but be selfish as he hungrily presses down into Louis' space, licking at his love's lower lip. 

Louis easily complies, opening his mouth as Harry's tongue explores his mouth like the curly-haired boy is trying to memorize ever nook and cranny of Louis' mouth. Louis wouldn't be surprised if he actually is. 

The kiss becomes more and more heated, both boys becoming lost in the need and desire. 

Harry begins to grind his bare hips downwards, the friction causing Louis to let out little needy noises into Harry's mouth. It gets to the point where the simple pleasure of Harry pressing down onto him gets to be too much for the tanned boy, and he pulls away slightly, hot breath hitting Harry's cheek and the sound of small whimpers only making Harry feel harder as he emitts his own deep groans. 

There's only the thin layer of Louis' cotton pajama pants separating them seeing as the younger boy still prefers going commando at night, and Harry reaches a large hand down, grasping Louis firmly. Louis lets out a hiss of breath, throwing his head back as waves of pleasure hit him full force.

The friction is rough but enjoyable, and Harry rubbs gently at Louis' head, using the pre-come as a sort of lube as he works his hand up and down, twisting close to the base-just like he knew Louis liked all those months ago. His eyes remain locked on Louis' face, concentrating on making sure this boy he desperately loves is gaining pleasure from all this.

Harry can tell Louis was getting closer by the way the boy's breath keeps hitching, cheeks flushing red. His cock throbs painfully at the sight, still untouched, and Harry wants his mouth around the other boy when he comes.

So, Harry lets go of Louis, pulling his hand out of the pajama bottoms, causing Louis to let a small whine of protest escape from his lips when he does so.

Harry presses their lips together again forcefully as he yanks the soft cloth down, Louis arching so he can better remove them, hands lingering on his ass a bit longer than what's really necessary. 

Once they're off, Harry pecks Louis' lips once more before his lips trail down the tanned torso, pausing occasionally to bite down and suck on the skin, earning grunts of pleasure from the older boy. 

Once he reaches the place that Louis wants him the most, Harry licks around the head of Louis' dick, as if it's his favorite flavored sucker. Louis groans, eyes shutting tightly, and Harry opens his mouth, taking in as much of Louis until he feels the cock head hit the back of his throat, causing his eyes to water. Looking up through his eyelashes, Harry figures it's all worth the slight uncomfortableness he feels to see how wrecked Louis looks, thin pink lips parting in an 'o' shape, toned chest rising and falling quickly, blue eyes only half open and trained on Harry.

Harry hallows out his cheeks, slowly beginning to bob his head, mouth hot and wet around Louis. He swirls his tongue each time he reaches close to the head, a large hand going to fondle Louis' balls while the other wraps itself around Harry's own dick, jacking himself off at the same speed as his bobbing motions around Louis. 

Soon, Louis is coming undone, a loud moan of Harry's name escaping his lips, and that along with the feel of Louis coming down his throat has Harry reaching his orgasm, too.

Harry groans, swallowing Louis' seed before removing his lips with a loud and dirty popping sound, licking his lips, eyes remaining on Louis. 

Louis groans at the sight of Harry's messy curls, a bit sweaty and eyes blown wide. Biting his lip, he tugs Harry up before kissing him roughly, tasting himself in the kiss. 

Harry groans against Louis' mouth, large hand at the back of the other boy's neck and the other on the small of his back, pressing him closer. He pulls away, breathless and hopeful eyes searching Louis' face. Things are being added up in his head, and the only answer to this equation must be that Louis loves him back if he's letting Harry touch him. "I love you," he says, praying Louis will sense the truth behind his words and maybe even return them this one time. 

But Harry is so wrong, because Louis' already given him too much, and he's being greedy in hoping for more. 

Louis bites his lips, thoughts flashing back to his dream and what the dream Harry had said, and he finds himself sobbing again, burying his head into Harry's chest, a chorus of "not good enough"'s escaping past his lips, everything a dark cloud of nothing and the smell of Harry. 

Harry just holds Louis closer, not knowing what else he can do or say except hold on as tightly as he can until Louis' breathing eventually evens out. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knows that tomorrow morning, Louis will regret all this and make up something about not being what Harry deserves, and Harry will find himself hurting all over again.

~~~

Days go by. Louis gets worse. Harry gets less patient. 

It's not that Harry's impatient about Louis not loving him back. It's just Louis can't seem to accept how much Harry loves him. It's only so many times you can take being told your love isn't real before you crack, and Harry's at the point of breakage. 

Like Harry expected, Louis had pushed him away the morning after he had let Harry blow him. It wasn't a surprise at all, yet Harry couldn't help the disappointment that settled in his stomach despite it all. 

But now it seems like Louis is completely avoiding him, and Harry isn't sure as to why. It isn't like that had been the first time it had happened. There have been a few times where Louis has broken down like that, needing Harry in such a physical way it made Harry's head spin. They're not often, and yes, the time before that had been months ago, but Louis hasn't freaked out like he had. 

But something seems to have set Louis off this time. He seems to be spending more and more time with Eleanor without complaining. Maybe he doesn't look very happy, but Harry still finds himself hurt and confused. It's odd that the blue-eyed boy almost prefers to spend his spare time with a girl that's been hired to hide his sexuality rather than his best mates. Somehow, Harry can't help but feel like it's his fault. 

Harry's pushed Louis too far. It's gotten to the point where he's not showing Louis how much he loves him. Instead, he's shoving his love down his throat and suffocating the gorgeous tan lad. 

So, Harry eventually stops pushing, stops showing his love. He backs off completely, trying to convince himself that he doesn't want Louis anymore. 

Harry's never found himself lying so god damn much. 

~~~

Louis thinks he's depressed or something. All the colors have faded. Everything's black, white, and gray. He doesn't think he likes it. 

Louis feels really lonely. He's pushed everyone so much. The boys quit trying to keep their friendship ages ago, caving into Louis' wishes easily. Harry took a bit more time, but eventually the love he never really had ran out, and he, too, left Louis alone. 

Somehow it's not exactly what Louis wanted.

Tour's started up, though, and it's become harder to avoid the boys completely. 

On the tour bus, Louis has all four boys pressed on either side, and they do their best to include him, but really it's all probably just to ease their consciences. 

Louis finds he doesn't give a fuck. He usually retreats to his bunk, anyway, and plays shitty games on his phone and wishes he were somewhere else. In some extreme cases that are starting to get more and more common, he wishes he were dead. 

Hotels are trickier. 

Only Harry ever volunteers to room with Louis. Even then, it's only if the curly-haired lad thinks that Louis' in a happier mood than usual. 

Most of the time, though, Louis is left to room by himself or with two of the other boys, sleeping alone in both cases. 

If you were to ask him, Louis can't really say what's brought this on. The hate's gotten to his head and as the days go by, he's starting to believe he doesn't belong in the band.

Not that the public would notice.

For the cameras, Louis is all smiles, laughter, and awful jokes. Nobody outside of the boys and staff notices his change in behavior. 

And that's fine with Louis. He can pretend. He's actually quite good at it.

But it's getting to the point where Louis really is done with life. There's no point in living in such a dark, gray world. The only color he sees these days are the jade of a certain pair of eyes that rarely look at him now. Somehow, it makes Louis drown even more quickly.

~~~

One night, the boys all decide to go out. Really, it's because they know how upset Harry's been. Though the boy will never admit it, he hasn't been his usual self, and the three guys are sure it's because of Louis' newfound distance from them. 

So, Harry's dragged from the hotel to the club, wondering why Louis isn't here with them. He brushes the Louis-related thoughts from his mind, figuring that Louis must've rejected the offer. 

But the thing is, the three didn't bother to invited Louis. They figured he'd shoot down the offer anyways, so what's the point?

It's the worst night possible to ever exclude the blue-eyed boy. 

~~~

Louis is feeling extra insecure tonight, and he really, really wants someone to hold him. 

But when the short boy goes to the room he knows Harry's staying in, hoping to cry and admit that he's in such a fucked up place and that he desperately wants out, he finds the room empty. 

Confused, Louis heads over to Paul's room, lightly tapping the door before its swung open. 

"Yeah, Lou?" Paul questions, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. 

Louis scratches the back of his neck, eyes trained on his feet. "Erm, do you know where Harry is?" he asks sheepishly, still not meeting the security guard's gaze. 

Paul frowns, expression even more confused. "They went out to some club. I thought they would've invited you?" His tone sounds curious and almost pitiful, like he felt bad because Louis wasn't even invited. 

Louis blinks back the years that are threatening to spill because he isn't even worth inviting to go clubbing. His gut wretches and he mutters something that might be a 'no, they didn't, but thanks' before he numbly turns and walks back to his room.

Once Louis makes it back to his room, he lets out a blood curdling scream, pounding his fist into the wall. He's crying, but it's not from how badly his knuckles are throbbing and searing with pain. 

Trying his best to get gulps of air into his lungs, Louis stumbles to the bathroom, vision blurred from his tears. Opening his travel kit, he dumps the contents, grabbing blindly for the razor he uses to shave, hand shaking as he grips it. He sets it on the floor, moving to turn on the bath water, choking out a sob as he listens to the water rush out because he's decided to do this and it's all so scary but so, so inviting. 

But still, Louis has to do one last thing. 

Walking back into the bedroom area, Louis fumbles for his phone, entering his password and unlocking it. Sniffling, he goes to his texts, finding the conversation between Harry and himself. 

The text is short and Louis prays it'll give Harry some sort of happiness, because maybe it's too late for him to finally say it, but it's what Harry deserves and the honest to god truth. 

Then, Louis hurls the phone at the wall with a scream, turning and stalking back to the bathroom. He strips himself bare, looking one last time at the mirror, hating the boy who stares back at him with a passion. 

Louis quickly turns his attention away, grabbing for the razor and starting on his arms, making sure a cut runs across each of his tattoos, the ones on the stag cutting the deepest. He moves on, slicing as deeply as the razor will let him, sobs becoming more and more desperate. 

Finally, Louis decides the cuts are deep and plenty enough. Dropping the item to the floor, he turns off the bath water which is close to overflowing, stepping into the warm water and shutting his eyes one last time. 

Louis doesn't know how much time he spends on his thoughts, but soon there's just darkness and a cold, numb feeling. 

~~~

Harry gets the text, a grin spreading across his face before getting wiped off again. Don't get him wrong; he's insanely thrilled that the text includes 'I love you so much, Harry.' What he doesn't get is why the end of it says, 'I'm sorry. Bye.'

Immediately, a rush of hope over takes the curly-haired boy, and he sets his drink down, yelling at Niall that he was going to go check on Louis. 

Quickly exiting the club, Harry can't deny the happiness that's coursing through his veins. Louis loves him. Harry doesn't have to lie to himself anymore. Still, he can't shake this feeling that something is terribly off. 

Finding one of the black SUVs that security drives, Harry hops in, and then they're off. 

Once they make it back to the hotel, Harry goes straight to Louis' room. It's locked, and he can't hear anything from inside, so he goes and bugs Paul until he gives him the key to Louis' room. 

Sliding the door open, Harry walks in, shutting the door behind him and calling out Louis' name. When there's no reply, Harry steps furthe into the room, walking to the bedroom area. 

It's almost comical the way Harry's eyes widen as the smell of something metallic hits him, and he rushes to the bathroom, the door still open.

A choked sob escapes his throat and Harry rushes to the tub, grabbing the now lifeless Louis from the water and holding him tightly to his chest, choked sobs falling from his lips and words of blame echoing through his head. 

And it's all so fucked up, because Harry thought it was all okay. They were going to start all over again. This time, they wouldn't pretend. Instead, Louis was gone. 

He hasn't even left a note.


End file.
